“When I am challenged by changes, I look to the moon as a mentor. She changes all the time without complaint. She accepts change with grace.”~ Avia
Hunger Moon
snow is slush woman waits hungry
patches of gray on snow lake skim
change is felt by life and limb
beneath this seasonal disguise
something stirs felt not seen
like a god or goddess or frozen heart
of wendigo it is there
a soft mewling beneath mother’s muffler
she is beginning to hum soon a full howl
of wolf and woman desperate for spring
curled into hand-crafted comforter
warding off man beast meandering mind
wanders through feasts and famines past
she feels rise of spittle surge of hunger
pale she sees grandmother moon
aging beyond her years reaching
boney cupped hand to scoop
a moments moonshine to sustain her
essence of graying edges of drifts
sunken cheekbones blue evidence
either are here or there fading
like sparkles outliving their time
season’s sins uncovered by warmer breath
a beating heart thrumming drumming
a deeper rhythmic tender we wait
waist-cinched worry leaning on faith
there will be a change with her or without her
she is drug from her lethargy
to spin her spindle light her candles
teach her soul to flicker begin to waken
from long winter’s slumber
she rises leaves her comfortable chair
presses her face to moonlit night
beyond the pain and slips beautifully
below fringes of frailty and rises as blue
and burgeoning as she dare to give evidence
that all things rise achingly to keen
©Carol Desjarlais 2.12.22
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